The Two Faces of Janus
by GeneHuntress
Summary: Set at the end of S3. A lonely Gene realises he's reached a crossroads in his life, and then events take an unexpected turn ...
1. Chapter 1

A/N : Janus is the Roman god who gave his name to the month of January: rather appropriately, as he is usually portrayed as having two faces, one looking backwards to the past and one forwards to the future.  
>He is the god of time, of beginnings and endings, of doorways and transitions …<p>

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**The Two Faces of Janus**

Gene sat in his office with his booted feet up on the desk, his long legs crossed at the ankle, toying absentmindedly with a glass of whiskey. He took a good mouthful and followed it with a long drag on his cigarette, narrowing his eyes as he blew the smoke slowly out and watched it drift up towards the ceiling. It was close to midnight, but he had little or no desire to head home. After all, what was waiting for him there? A cold, empty house that he'd never liked, never felt comfortable in and knew he never would.

He should probably have stayed at Luigi's, the new DI needed his help to adjust to the shock of this strange world he'd suddenly found himself in, but it'd been one hell of a day and he craved some time alone. The brochure for his new car lay untouched on his desk, he couldn't be bothered just at the moment. He was going to miss the Quattro, it was the only thing that had made driving around the grimy streets of London vaguely pleasurable. And that wasn't the only thing he was going to miss.

He closed his eyes, seeing them all again as they took their final leave of him. Raymondo grasping his hand tightly in farewell, trying to convey all his mixed emotions in that one gesture. Chris and Shaz facing whatever was to come together, looking out for each other as they always did. Gene knew they'd all be fine. Ray had probably copped off with a big breasted blonde the minute he walked through the door of the pub.

And then his head was full of her. DI Bolly-Kecks. That posh, gobby pain in the arse with a head full of brains, the common sense of a grain weevil and the body of a goddess. Her face crumpled up in grief when she finally realised she couldn't get back to her daughter. The way she'd clutched at his lapels in desperation, not wanting to be parted from him. And that kiss. Barely more than a peck, and yet he could still feel the imprint of her soft lips on his. Why hadn't he pulled her into his arms and snogged the face off her when he'd had the chance? At least then she'd have had no doubts about how he felt, and there would have been something to cling onto until he could finally join her. And a definite promise for the future ….

Had it really been the right time for her to move on? He still wasn't sure, but maybe that was just his own selfish needs and desires taking precedence. After all, he'd hung on to Ray and Chris for far too long, it seemed. When had he begun to forget, lost his sense of purpose, deviated from his allotted task? He wasn't sure, but it must have been some time after Sam left. He'd missed him more than he ever thought possible. And now he'd lost them all.

The loneliness threatened to overwhelm him, and he poured another generous measure of whiskey and downed it in one, grimacing as it hit the back of his throat. He tried to think back to when he'd first arrived in this world, but he had no clear recollection, it was all just a blur. Presumably he'd inherited this role from some other copper who'd finally got the chance to go to the pub. How would he know when his own time came? Some kind of sign from above? Or just the realisation that he'd finally reached the end of his tether?

He considered the future. A new DI to train up. A brand new team to take over from Ray, Chris and Shaz. And he doubted he'd seen the last of Keats somehow, knew he'd have to stay vigilant. He tried to think of the positives. There would always be criminal scum to arrest, bruise free groin slaps to administer, and streets to keep clear of filth. He'd get a flash new motor and maybe a new bird to distract him, a low maintenance blonde with big tits and no brains. He'd always been popular with the ladies, and he needed the occasional guilt-free shag as much as the next man.

He sighed heavily, suddenly so bone-weary he could hardly keep his eyes open. As he drifted off he realised that none of that mattered to him any more. He wanted to be sat at the bar of The Railway Arms while Nelson pulled him another pint, smirking as Ray tried to light his farts and Shaz rolled her eyes at Chris. He wanted to see Sam and Annie again. And more than anything he wanted to wrap his arms round Alex, kiss her until her knees went weak, and take her upstairs to show her just how much he needed her …

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Born out of a difficult S3 rewatch, and my need to deal with a less than satisfactory ending, for me at least. We all know it's going to get better for Gene in the concluding chapter ...  
>Hope you enjoyed. A little out of my comfort zone, so I'd really like to hear what you think.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the kind comments – I've been a little bit unsure of this one. Here's the concluding chapter as promised. Hope you enjoy …

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**Chapter 2**

Gene woke shivering in the cold light of dawn, and immediately realised he wasn't alone. His eyes widened in surprise as he took in the stranger seated in a chair nearby, flicking through his car magazine and looking perfectly at home. The other man glanced up and smiled, offering his hand. He was tall and slim, about mid-thirties, Gene guessed, with a pleasant open face and dark eyes.

"Oh good, you're awake. DCI Lyon. Andrew."

Gene shook his hand automatically.

"Lyon? Is that some kind of joke, mate? DCI Hunt. Gene."

Andrew Lyon's smile widened.

"Your reputation precedes you, Guv. The Manc Lion, right? Maybe they do have a sense of humour up there after all."

Gene raised his eyebrows, his confusion deepening.

"Up where? And 'ave we met before?"

Andrew shook his head.

"No, Gene. Is it alright if I call you Gene?"

"Be my guest."

"I should probably explain. I'm your replacement."

Gene nearly fell off his chair.

"Wot? Did I 'ere yer right?"

The other man held his gaze, compassion showing in his eyes.

"Something significant happened yesterday, didn't it? Something that made the powers that be realise it's time, Gene. They've left you in the role for so long because you were doing a good job, but now your prayers have been answered."

Gene's brows knitted as he tried to take it in.

"Prayers? Gene Hunt doesn't pray."

He pouted, and Andrew grinned.

"You don't have to get down on your knees and put your hands together to pray, Gene. It's clear that you've reached the end of your tether, and you've finally earned your reward. I'm taking over as of now, and you're free to go. Have a pint for me, will you? And by the way, which car do you recommend?"

Gene was convinced he must be dreaming. The other man was so matter of fact, but he was talking about Gene walking away from his life, from all that was familiar, everything he'd worked for all these years. Could the Manc lion finally leave his kingdom behind? Was it really time?

Andrew could see he needed some persuading even though he was so obviously ready.

"DCI Hunt, just look at the sign on your office door, will you?"

Gene stood and went to have a look. "DCI Lyon". He blinked hard and looked again, but it was still there.

"Now check your warrant card."

He fished it out of his inside jacket pocket, and his jaw dropped. It was blank. He closed his mouth and ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. Andrew Lyon patted him on the shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting way.

"You don't belong here anymore, Gene. You know what you need to do."

Gene looked down at the warrant card and back up at Andrew, and the other man could see a spark of excitement in his eyes.

"This is it, then? I can finally go and claim me pint?"

"Trust me, this really is it, Gene. Go and find her, go and find all of them. You've earned it …"

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Gene stood outside the Railway Arms and took a last drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stubbing it out with his foot. He thrust his hands deep into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, his familiar pout firmly back in place. In truth, it was his default expression when feeling out of his depth, and this was a big step into the unknown. He still couldn't quite believe it was actually happening, kept expecting to wake up.

So what now? Did he just walk through the door? And would it feel like twenty-four hours to her since she'd left? He took a last mouthful of whiskey for Dutch courage, squared his shoulders and strode forwards.

There was a blinding light as he stepped through the door, and he couldn't see anything clearly for the first few seconds, but the noise level went from deafening to almost silent as he blinked and tried to get his bearings.

"Guv? Is it really you? Didn't expect yer here so soon."

It was Ray, a beaming smile on his face, pumping his hand up and down like he hadn't seen him for years. Then he was surrounded by a crowd of well-wishers, people patting him on the back and shaking him by the hand. Suddenly Sam was standing right in front of him, and the two men embraced, patting one another on the back in a manly way.

"It's so good to see you again, Guv."

"Now then, Gladys. Enough of this girlie stuff, get me a drink in."

Sam grinned and passed him the pint that Nelson had just poured for him, and Gene took a long gulp. It tasted better than any beer he'd ever had in his life. Conversation levels started to slowly return to normal, and the crowd began to thin out around him as people went back to their seats. And then finally he saw her sitting at the other end of the bar, and the expression on her face made his heart constrict. She was gazing at him as though she hardly dared to believe he was real, her eyes bright with unshed tears, biting her lip to stop it wobbling. He put his pint down and made his way slowly round the bar until he was stood directly in front of her.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, then she reached up and tentatively stroked his cheek, her hand shaking.

"You are real, then?"

"Told yer I'd see yer around, Bollykecks."

The next thing he knew, she was dragging his head down, her lips capturing his, and this time he didn't hesitate, ravishing her mouth hungrily as he pulled her into his arms. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she moaned softly into his mouth, and he could hear clapping and cheering as though from a long way away.

Eventually they broke apart, both flushed and panting, and she beamed up at him.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?"

He flashed her a rare smile.

"Well I am on a promise, aren't I?"

"Oh yeah …"

She took him by the hand and led him out of the bar to the accompaniment of wolf-whistles and more applause, and he turned back with a grin.

"Leave me pint on the bar, I'll be back fer it later."

Alex's head appeared round the door behind him.

"Not if I've got anything to do with it he won't."

He chuckled as she dragged him up the stairs. Clearly he'd died and gone to Heaven. At long last ...

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Well, I've definitely cheered myself up – hope it did the same for you! All feedback gratefully received, as ever.


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